


Now the Moon is High (And My Soul is Empty)

by priama



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Fake Science, Gen, Human Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26945794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priama/pseuds/priama
Summary: Rachel Dawes can survive the masked maniacs in this wretched city because she is too stubborn to die. (He tightens his fists until his nails dig into his skin and swallows dry.)orJonathan Crane goes through the five stages of grief regarding Rachel Dawes.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Rachel Dawes
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	1. I

The news reaches Crane as a rumor, as casual words exchanged between prison guards within the vicinity of his cell.

"Did you hear about that woman that was involved in Falcone's imprisonment? The DA's assistant?"

"Yeah. Nasty situation. Supposedly the Joker forced Batman to choose between her and Dent."

It isn't until the next day that he learns about the entirety of these whispers. Rachel Dawes is dead, her body reduced to ash in some abandoned warehouse. District Attorney Harvey Dent is alive but missing.

Crane chuckles. If there's one thing he's learned about Assistant District Attorney Rachel Dawes is that she is stronger and smarter than she looks, and that she is more than capable to cheat death. He knows this first hand; he's tried to off her twice. Rachel Dawes can survive the masked maniacs in this wretched city because she is too stubborn to die.

(He tightens his fists until his nails dig into his skin and swallows dry.)


	2. II

He escapes one day, burlap over his head. The police force is too busy, as is the Bat-man with the Joker's rampage across the city to pay much attention to his escape and the overdosed guards and fellow inmates he leaves behind.

The Narrows are still as dingy and ruined as he remembers them from three years ago; its denizens continue struggling with the effects of his toxin even to this day.

_He gallops, cornering Rachel Dawes and some broken child amid the chaos of the city._

_"There's nothing to fear but fear itself!"_

_The horse rears back in madness._

_"I'm here to help-"_

_Wires grab on to his mask and the voltage strikes him with such violence he falls back with a scream._

He frowns at the memory. The shock had hurt him viciously, yet it somehow reset his cognitive abilities, forcing the effects of his toxin to wear off almost immediately. Rachel Dawes had saved his mind back then. Rachel Dawes had saved his _life._

_And yet,_ he grits his teeth. _She goes out to get herself killed._

(Crane never learns to forgive her for that.)


	3. III

Gotham's finest arrive at his dilapidated makeshift lab almost two weeks after his escape. They confiscate his belongings and put him in cuffs. The man who shoves him towards the police car is Lieutenant- no, _Commissioner_ Gordon himself.

"What's wrong officer?" Crane taunts with a nonchalant smile that feels forced on his face "It took you much longer than expected to find me here."

"You're not necessarily at the top of my priorities, Crane." the commissioner tells him without making eye contact. Oh, that _humors_ him.

Cops spread yellow tape around his confiscated belongings and bark orders at each other through their radios and paramedics rush to attend the test subjects that lie by the corners of the lab. Crane throws his head back, his blank smile stays plastered on his face but his icicle eyes stare through the commissioner.

"Is that what you and the Bat-man told Miss Dawes' remains?"

Gordon tenses. _So I was right._ Crane swallows down bile before forcing a laugh.

"Touched a nerve, commissioner?"

"Take him away." Gordon tells one of the other cops as he lets go of Crane's arm. Jonathan is pushed into the backseat of a police car.

("You should learn that punctuality is a virtue, commissioner." he shouts out through clenched teeth. _Miss Dawes would still be alive if you bothered to look at your watch.)_


	4. IV

The Joker lies on the stretcher murmuring and fidgeting, doing his utmost to regain the movement of his limbs. The man that terrorized Gotham city, the man that made civilians and criminals, law enforcement and even the infamous caped crusader shudder alike with horror and confusion now lies almost limp on a bed, held hostage within Blackgate by a fellow inmate. It was a pathetic sight.

"Forcing movement is futile, Mr. Joker." Crane tells the man as he swirls the chemicals within a flask. "I injected a strong dose of opioids of my own creation into your bloodstream. Your motor skills will drop to 0.01 percent of their capacity. You will feel something akin to sleep paralysis."

The liquid within the glass turns from a clear tone to an amber shade. Crane would smile at this success, considering he had to use the meager components he found within the prison's hospital. But he is not in the mood to force any smile. He hasn't been in the mood for that for some time now.

Setting the flask down, he grabs a metal syringe to drain the contents. It's an old thing but clean somehow. The needle is a little too long which means his patient would feel some pain or disturbance. Oh well.  
  


Crane turns around. The Joker stares at him, his eyes bloodshot and glassy and saliva dripping down his chin. He has stopped twitching by now.

Traces of white and red face paint linger on his skin and Crane recalls the time when he wondered how the man before him got those scars across his face. The clown himself would harass fellow inmates and unlucky guards with that question whenever he felt like it. Each story was different. Crane lost interest soon enough.

"Don't worry about your current state, Mr. Joker." Jonathan reassures his paralyzed patient as he rids the syringe of air bubbles "You will regain movement soon enough. Though not as you're accustomed to."

Crane injects the man in the neck all the while staring him in the eyes. He steps back as the Joker's pupils dilate and begins to heave; a guttural croak feebly rising from the depths of his chest.

"It's a new formula based of my original fear toxin." Crane tells him. "First it heightens your senses, forcing your brain to create images, sounds and sensations that are not there."

Crane puts the syringe away and clasps his hands behind his back. His icicle eyes never blink.

"Soon you'll feel a surge of adrenaline running through your veins." The Joker's heaving becomes more audible. "Which, in turn, will clash with the opioids from before. That means your organs will function twice – and even three times- faster than usual, but your voluntary muscles will remain still."

Beads of sweat begin to form on the Joker's forehead and his gasping for air becomes a muffled and desperate screech. He tries to flex his fingers to no avail. Saliva drips with even much force, creating a puddle at the side of his head. Crane stares impassively.

"Your heartbeat is accelerating, yes?" Jonathan asks without expecting any answer "And your head must be close to exploding. I forced your body to go into fight or flight mode. Adrenaline will heighten your blood pressure. This tends to happen to cornered animals, when they have nowhere else to run and nothing left to lose."

Suddenly the Joker starts to shiver. It becomes a twisted sort of dance that makes the stretcher roll a few centimeters backwards. Crane grabs the edge of the bed to hold it still.

"Soon your heart will reach its limit and it will burst, forcing each little capillary to implode as well." He leans in really close to the convulsing man, his voice bitter and his eyes cold with fury. "Similar to what happened to Rachel Dawes."

When blood drips down from the Joker's eyes, nose, mouth and ears announcing his passing, the door of the infirmary is kicked down. Swarms of guards rush in and immediately overwhelm Jonathan, forcing him into the ground as they cuff him and drag him into solitary confinement. He never once resists and allows himself to be dragged away, his mind distant and senses tuning out. From the corner if his eye, he sees how the Joker's corpse is stuffed into a body bag.

(In the dark of his cell he thinks he sees a ghost. An olive green stare scowls at him but she turns away and vanishes forever. Jonathan Crane closes his eyes.)


	5. V

"No lawyer? No witnesses? What sort of due process is this?"

Years have been tough to Commissioner Gordon. The man's hair has turned white as the ice outside and his face is more wrinkled than parchment. But he stands tall despite being in chains and that somehow amuses Crane.

"Your guilt has been determined. This is merely a sentencing hearing." Jonathan tells him, just as he's told many of punished men and women that came before him. _Besides, the only lawyer who would have defended you tooth and nail is now a pile of ash, scattered in the wind and you've only yourself to blame._

"Now what will it be?" He tosses his head back and raises his voice "Death? Or exile?"

"Crane," the old man retorts "If you think we're going onto that ice willingly, you have another thing coming."

Crane's eyebrows arch in amusement. "Death, then." _How very like a self-righteous martyr, commissioner. Miss Dawes would be very disappointed in you._

"Looks that way."

"Very well." Crane slams the gavel with a little too much force, making his desk rattle. "Death!"

And he leans in, a smug grin spreading across his face. His eyes glint wickedly. "By exile."

The crowd roars and drags Gordon and the rest of the force away to the ice outside. He slams his gavel again to quiet down the rabble and crumples Gordon's file in his fist, tossing it aside. He sighs.

Rachel Dawes is dead and gone and Jonathan Crane has already made peace with that. Her ghost is gone and the only memory he has of her is how she would glare at him. Still, he smiles. Reclining against the back of his chair, he looks up.

_There's justice for you, Miss Dawes, finally. I know you wouldn't approve of it but then again you never really liked how I do things._

(Amongst the mess of papers, he finds a crumpled file with her photograph in it. He folds it into his pocket.)

**Author's Note:**

> Katie Holmes is forever the Rachel I write about. Also, she is a main presence in this fic but doesn't make a significant appearance so this is why I don't tag her.
> 
> I pulled the science/medical stuff out of my ass. Sorry!
> 
> Inspired by Seicchanart's "A Scarecrow's Sorrow". Sorry I can't properly link but go look it up, read it, review it and kudos it!


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